


And The Year Turns Round Again

by OverconfidentFanficWriter



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Depression, Recovery, References to dead characters but that's how it goes in Star Wars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-06-05 13:26:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6706162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverconfidentFanficWriter/pseuds/OverconfidentFanficWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ahch-To is a quiet place. Nothing much to see. Just two old men, a hero and a caretaker, learning how to bear the weight of the galaxy again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who encouraged me to take up writing again.

Luke can remember everything. He remembers how one moon was full, the other with a sliver missing. He remembers exactly where the shadows fell, the sound of each of his students when they cried out for their teacher. He remembers R2, the red cross, the corrupted signature of each Knight of Ren as they escaped into the night.

He can't remember what it was like to bury them. What it was like to tell Han and Leia what had happened to their son. The weeks and months afterward, of blame and rumors and anger seething in the New Republic. Every time he tries, something blocks it. It's too fresh, too painful, and his mind flinches away. All he remembers is the phrase that kept him going. "I have to make this right."

He'd made a mistake by trying to reform the Jedi so soon. He didn't know enough of them. If he had, then Ben wouldn't have fallen, or at least he'd have known what to watch out for. So he reunited with Lor San Tekka, and they found where the Jedi began, a small, wayward planet called Ahch-To. He gave part of the map to Lor and the rest to R2, in case he was needed again, and set out to learn.

It happened slowly, crept up on him over the years so quietly he didn't even notice the change. Eating regularly became harder. He slept more and more. Keeping himself clean, shaving, maintaining his prosthetic hand, all became a chore. Some days he can force himself to get up, go looking for artifacts, meditate. Others, even meditation is difficult.

He is useless, worthless. He'd caused no revolution. All his training, all his work, and his only contribution had been to be tortured to motivate his father to succeed. And even then, what had happened? Palpatine had only been replaced by Snoke. No matter what he did, Luke would never eradicate the Dark Side. Any good he did would be wiped out, or worse. Even on Ahch-To, he can hear the cries of Force-sensitive children, slaughtered by the First Order while he is helpless to stop them. He's always been helpless to stop it.

The things he loved lose their luster. The hope within him dims, almost nonexistent. He can still remember happier times, but there's no solace in them, in remembering how long ago it was when he was last happy.

As the single sun rises and sets on a lone hermit, surrounded by water and so far from home, Luke Skywalker fades away.

=============

Even light-years away, Ezra can feel the massacre. Pain, and fear, and loss. He felt it when Alderaan fell, but this is...different somehow, as though the galaxy itself is mourning. And, in an odd, twisted way, familiar.

They were supposed to be safe. Luke was supposed to keep them safe. Without Sith whispering in their ears, without a war to corrupt them...they should have been something new, something pure.

The darker part of him understands, and old memories return to him. Of course they fell. Innocence can lead to naivete. Safety can lead to carelessness. Purity cannot survive in an impure world, and no matter how isolated, how carefully constructed, no world is pure. Luke Skywalker was a great man. But he was only one person, teaching so many, not knowing enough himself. And even the wisest teacher can fail, if they grow too rigid or too distant from their students.

It comes as no surprise when news trickles down that the Order fell from within, lead by a group that calls themselves the Knights of Ren. It's even less a surprise that Luke disappears after this.

No one knows the Unknown Regions like Ezra does. At least, no one the Resistance has access to. He and his friends explored the planets that the First Order built their factories on. He dwelled with the native life forms that the First Order never paid attention to. Now that the Resistance has formed, he's invaluable to their spy network. 

Every day his reach goes a little further. Every day more of his rats, sapient and animal, find their way into the First Order's bases. There's people to monitor, reports to encode, children to rescue from the clutches of the Knights of Ren. He can mourn the Jedi, but he cannot focus on them. If he does, he'll be consumed, unable to help anyone. 

Years pass, and he lets them, moving from one day to another. Then, one day, he gets a message triple-encoded and bearing the hallmarks of one Leia Organa. He opens it privately, and everything shatters.

His people already know what to do if he vanishes. He modifies a recording he made long ago, in case of his death, for his departure. He says goodbye to the Aleallean tooka and the jadak, telling them how much he'll miss them but that it's better if they stay here.

The purrgil sing of a man glowing with power, on a planet full of water somewhere in the depths of space. If Snoke bothered to listen, perhaps he'd have found Skywalker a long time ago. But Ezra supposes that purrgil and their songs are beneath the Supreme Leader.

With that in mind, Ezra steals one of the Order's more advanced TIE fighters and heads off, carrying only his old traveling pack and a holodisc with a single message: FIND LUKE.


	2. Autumn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update and thank you so much for all the kudos. I never expected this much praise.

The nature of creature-speaking is quite fascinating, and nowhere is this better demonstrated than when conversing with purrgil about space travel. While sapients would discuss it in units of distance, or more practically in units of time taken to get there, the purrgil interpretation is along the lines of fullness. They don't rely on hyperspace lanes (part of the reason interstellar pilots are in danger of them), in fact, they rarely intersect them. Their navigation is based off sensing pulsars. It's difficult to translate tightness in your abdomen and warmth on your nose and cheeks into parsecs and coordinates, but it's well worth the effort.

Of course, there are many things that still need to be considered. Like what happens if you're a just a little bit off and get too close to the planet. Or asteroids and debris and other celestial hazards that purrgil don't bother with. Or, for that matter, if the sort of ship you're flying can handle either well.

All things that Ezra definitely was not thinking as he floated in the sea, clinging to his pack as the wrecked TIE finally exploded about 30 meters below. In fact, Ezra wasn't thinking about much of anything other than a long, multilingual string of curse words against the First Order's engineering.

"Superiority fighter, my ass." He muttered as he struggled with his pack. " If it can't take a beating it's..." he choked on seawater, then spat it out as he extracted the raft and inflated it. He'd prepared for this, sure, but that didn't make it less annoying. He clambered into the raft and got under the shield, doing his best to bail out the water that had made its way in, and ignore the saltwater now making his clothes grainy. He would have to find some marine creatures to guide him to land before he died from exposure or dehydration. He ignored the heat to listen for living minds.

It wasn't long until he bumped into something, broad and tepid from a full stomach and leisurely activity, with predatory calm and a mother's particular sort of tense snappishness. He activated the built-in engine and sped towards it, using the Force to steer while analyzing the newcomer. Most mothers were difficult to connect with, due to an innate and quite understandable distrust of anything new that might harm their children. Luckily, Ezra had practice.

He opened his eyes to see a giant, grey-blue neck to the right of the boat, connected to a conical head at one end and a fat, oblong body at the other. She had two long tails and huge, fibrous fins, and she towered over him, easily three times as big as his raft. Five smaller beasts, with stubby tails and short necks, were swimming around her. She regarded Ezra with four bright yellow eyes, and bared three jaws of curved teeth.

Excuse me, ma'am? He asked, imitating the submissive, friendly mind of a harmless drifter meeting the queen of the territory. Where's land?

==========

It was one of Luke's better days. He'd managed to get up before noon, eat some berries, even try to meditate. When he was first starting out, it had been difficult for him to slip into nothingness. Now, it was effortless, but something had poisoned it. Whenever he tried letting go, becoming a selfless part of the Force, he simply...disappeared, no connection to anything at all. He knew what the problem was, but he didn't know how to fix it.

He needed to get out of the temple. That always helped, at least when he didn't collapse from lack of sleep and wake up on the cliffs. Maybe he could go down to the waterfront and look for artifacts....no. It was hard enough getting out of his house. Adding on would make it harder.

He hiked out to the cliffs, sitting down to watch the sea. It should have been soothing, seeing petrels and mirswyn and sosam out and about, but it wasn't. 

_You need to keep searching._

_I should._

_Do it._

_I really should._

_Do it when it's darker, then._

_I won't, but thanks._

The same thoughts, slow and syrupy, grinding like a glacier, going nowhere, doing nothing. Justifications. Anger. Encouragement. Compromise. And at the end of the day, nothing.

He was beyond useless. He should have recovered from Ben's betrayal long ago, but here he was, stuck on an island, barely able to get out of bed. He didn't even know how long he'd been like this, the years had blurred together, and he hadn't gotten better. What was the point, anyway? Everything that he touched, he ruined. Everyone he loved either died or faded away. There was nothing left, and if he weren't such a coward he'd admit it. The sooner, the better, and if he didn't.....

That wasn't a mirswyn. 

Luke blinked a couple times, even though his eyes were fine. It was his mind that was taking a moment to catch up. A boat was zipping along the waves, following a mother sosam and her soslings. He couldn't make out any details about the passenger, but they were definitely aimed for the island. 

There was a brief moment of clarity, before it snapped out of existence. He at least had the good sense to get back to the dwelling, rather than wait around for the stranger to see him. But everything else was a mess, his mind gone staticky and shot through with panic.

Here. Here, on Ahch-To. No one was supposed to be here. Lor made sure the map was gone. If they were here, if they knew....it was just the beginning. They would storm this place, tear out its secrets, kill him personally to set an example. 

Unless...Unless it's Leia. Calling for him, calling for a rescue, like the galaxy had called for years. A rescue he couldn't provide, even if he thought it would help anyone. She missed him, she wanted to see him, and if she saw him now...

His brain began to hurt as the options swam through it. Go out and meet him? Go out and fight? Clean up? Prepare dinner? Track him from the shadows? Go meet him, go home, tell Leia he failed? All running through his mind, tangling up, weighing him down and demanding action now, now, now.

He'd have to go back to war. Back to all the dying and pain and loss. Back to failure and uselessness and loneliness. He pleaded for an answer, any answer, but his brain had gone hot and fogged over, refusing.

Except for that one soft, constant, option, that always remained clear. Simple. The answer to every problem.

No. He shut it down. No, no, no. Not doing that. That's too far, too soon. He pushed it away.

The backlash afforded him a small measure of calm, and he splashed water on his face. First, he had to find out who the newcomer was. For all he knew, they were just a marooned pilot.

He covered up the entrance to hide his dwelling, make it easier for the visitor to miss it. He then went to bed. He'd think about it in the morning, when his mind had cleared a bit more. That's what he always did.

He relished the short peace he had from getting so close to the edge and pulling back. It would fade away come morning, but it was nice to feel somewhat in control.

Just before he passed out though, he felt something, and tucked it away for later. The newcomer was strong with the Force.

========== 

The planet was very beautiful. Ezra was biased, of course, having spent most of the past decade watching planets being torn apart by the First Order. But still, the lush green landscape, the magnificent and slightly intimidating cliffs, and the relics of the ancient Jedi made for a breathtaking sight. He could see how this was the land that had inspired the first Jedi.

The wildlife was entirely new, some similar to those he'd met, some not. There was a sloth of small, rotund, furry carnivores, colored in reds and blues with stubby legs and square snouts, that became a permanent fixture near the hut. Down in the bay there were giant mirswyn, rubbery, human-sized, missile-shaped planimals that would hold paws in long chains, floating on the waves and letting their slimy bellies photosynthesize in the morning before splitting up to hunt in the afternoon. Giant crustaceans, fish, and aquatic reptiles roamed the deep, and vast flocks of seabirds patrolled the skies. It was a truly beautiful place, teeming with life.

For the first few weeks, he didn't see Luke once. He was fine with that. He sensed him, and knew he was being sensed in return. Luke meditated somewhat regularly, and whenever he did they would connect. Ezra didn't mind if he was a bit nosy. He had the right to be.

Luke felt so tired. So hopeless. Ezra had expected it, but to experience it himself....he couldn't help but try and soothe it after the first few connections. Luke had stuck around for that, which Ezra assumed was a good sign. But then the meditation stopped for weeks on end. Ezra didn't try again.

Ezra would wake up in the night, shaking and crying, dreaming of death. It was nothing new, but the faces were unfamiliar, and the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach seemed even worse than usual. It got bad enough that the purple leader of the carnivores took to waking him up by bouncing on his chest.

 _You pain whimper. Sick think talk. No more crying._ She communicated as she cuddled with him and licked his face. 

"Your didn't need to push me." He muttered, his brain still too jumbled to put words together right. "Your breath smells that bad anyway." But he was too grateful to object in a way she could hear. After that, he tried to avoid sleeping when Luke did. Luke had enough on his mind without having Ezra's nightmares too.

He fell into a reliable schedule. He'd wake up just before the sun goes down, get down to the water for fishing. Gather up whatever fruit he'd dried the day before, set out new fruit to dry. Meditate and learn the minds of the local fauna. Check up on the network through the eyes of the jadak and tooka. On the nights when Luke couldn't sleep, they'd meditate together. Ezra didn't try to help him, and Luke didn't withdraw.

The great sea beasts, like the one that had guided him to the island, were migrating north. So were the endless families of seabirds. They'd come to the island in great flocks, eat their fill, rest, and head off their next destination. The days were getting shorter, the nights colder. Winter was coming, and he needed to prepare.

Progress ebbed and flowed with Luke. Sometimes, he'd be much better, going outside, meditating, eating and sleeping regularly,. Other times, he'd push Ezra away, lock himself away underground, neglect food and sleep. Most days had both in some capacity. Ezra had expected that. Even with the Force, Luke had been more or less trapped inside his own head for years, left to deal with his grief and guilt alone. Adjusting to a new person would not be accomplished quickly.

He'd spent his life listening to people's stories. Abnormally strong empathic abilities made people want to open up to him, but as time passed he'd realized there was something stronger at play. People wanted to speak their stories. People wanted to have a safe haven, where they wouldn't have to put on a safe face, say "I'm fine" and move on. And not just heard, but validated, comforted, aided in the way they needed. That ran far deeper than a mind trick or even beast taming, and Ezra, through his own unique talent and his own long experience, was that safe haven.

Right now, Luke didn't know what to do with a newcomer, and that was alright. Ezra could wait for him to figure it out, then go from there.

And in the meantime, he did his best to quiet that nagging voice that wondered if he was just going to hurt Luke more.

========= 

Luke was truly worthless.

All the stranger wanted to do was help. He could sense that. Yet despite coming away from every meditation feeling better, he just couldn't make himself keep going. He felt guilty for failing even the most basic task, but even that could not make him work harder. He'd set a day and hour to meet him, then watch it slip by.

Things got worse, or maybe it was just that Luke was paying attention to them now. He slept more, although he never felt rested. He didn't eat enough. And he wouldn't go outside, out of fear of the stranger. Well, not of the stranger, exactly. More of the responsibilities that would come with knowing the stranger.

But when he started walking again, he never saw the stranger. He saw the drying racks of fish on the shores, the piles of berries, and the naga bears that ducked in and out of the stranger's hut as he slept. Although he sensed the stranger watching him, more than once, he never saw them. Evidentially, they didn't want to meet him either. Luke felt both sad and relieved.

The stranger must have changed their mind, though, because one morning Luke woke up to see a bucket attached to rope in the chimney. It was full of the dried fish, and had aurebesh crudely scrawled in ash on the side "for yog".

Luke was surprised by how little hunger he felt, but made himself eat anyway, mentally adding generosity and poor spelling skills to the list of things he knew about the stranger. The bucket went back up the chimney. It came back later at night with berries and water. 

Whenever Luke could not get out of the house, food would reappear. Occasionally, the messages would include "need soap?" and "get out of bed before I senr in the bairs". Luke wasn't sure if they were serious or not, but he couldn't deny they were useful reminders.

Before the stranger arrived, Luke's good days were few and far between. Now, with the stranger sending food and soap and Luke turning up to more of the meditations, the days shifted into a vicious cycle: do well and admonish himself for not doing better all the time, work too hard and collapse, try to do better, do too well and feel guilty again. He was able to get most things done if he got started...but getting started was difficult, and he didn't know why or how to fix it.

The meditations with the stranger, however, were a constant litany of " _It's good, it's good._ " It didn't matter if Luke had accomplished everything that day or been unable to get out of bed. The stranger maintained firmly that he had done his best, and that was good. It became a stabilizing moment in his day, and even if he sometimes skipped it, Luke found himself looking forward to meditation. Strange. He hadn't looked forward to anything in such a long time, he'd almost forgotten what that felt like.

Fall came and went, the days getting shorter and the nights colder. Luke started storing food and other necessities, and the bucket was replaced by a platform with the note "please stode this" and more food than he could eat. Luke mostly ignored the implications until the day when an entire mattress showed up in the plaza, leaning against the wall of another room. After about three days of delaying and letting the mattress get wetter than it should, Luke dragged it into a spare room of his own house. Those beehive huts weren't suitable for winter. He was a Jedi. He should put aside his feelings and care for another person. Although as more things arrived and the day he'd finally meet the stranger came closer, it became a bit harder to distinguish just what those feelings were. 

Finally, on the day before the first storm came, he opened the door to see the stranger standing there. He was most likely a male Human, about Luke's age, with wrinkled copper skin, blue eyes, short black and silver hair and a beard kind of like Obi-Wan's. He wore mismatched blue and white armor with a few paintings on it and a brown jumpsuit underneath. He had a pack on his back and a Clone Wars era helmet with stylized jaig eyes tucked under his left arm. All the possibilities Luke had thought about failed him. 

"Name's Ezra." He said in an accent Luke couldn't place. "Are you gonna stare at me 'til summer or are you gonna invite me in?"

==========

With Luke safely asleep, Ezra looked at Leia's message one last time. He felt guilty, lying to her about Luke. She'd lost so much of her family already. But bringing Luke back would mean bringing him back to the Republic. And Leia would not want her brother back just to see him broken.

Of course the Republic wanted Luke back. They'd mock him when they were safe and happy, blame him for his father's crimes, blame him for the fall of the Jedi. But when the time came, they'd want him to save them. They'd cry out for him when they were in need but not lift a finger for him. They'd force him to bear their pains, to hold all the faults of the galaxy. Break the master, break the Jedi, break the man, until he could go no more. If they found him now, they'd drag him back, throw the weight of the galaxy back on his weakened shoulders. Oh, he'd do his best. That was what heroes were for. But he wouldn't succeed, and they'd tut a bit and claim they knew he was weak before moving onto the next hero to break. 

No. Ezra had no intention of giving Luke over to the Republic. He would tend Luke first, see him healed. It would take time, and patience. But here on this lonely planet, with the war not yet broken, he had time to spare. 

Luke Skywalker would not be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ezra's beard is his father's beard. I figured that someone who grew up on the streets, doesn't have formal schooling, and then spent 30 years in the Unknown Regions learning entirely new languages would not have the best grip on spelling. "Yog", senr", and "stode" are because "g" and "u", then "d" and "r" look very similar in aurebesh . It's also why Ezra has an accent now, he's lived with several species and spoken many languages so his native Lothali has bled all over the place. Skara Brae was the inspiration for Luke's dwelling, while Skellig Island was the inspiration (naturally) for Ezra's.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I've been out of practice for a couple years, so I'm not at my best. But Star Wars, especially Rebels, has inspired me again, so I thought it was appropriate I start this story on May the Fourth.


End file.
